


No Thank You's

by Malind



Category: Final Fantasy X
Genre: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-05-13
Updated: 2002-05-13
Packaged: 2018-05-18 07:48:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5908312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malind/pseuds/Malind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the brink of death, Auron finds someone he can trust.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Thank You's

**Author's Note:**

> Final Fantasy X's characters and universe are owned by Square Enix. I make no profit from this fanfiction.

I tried. Yevon, I couldn't save them. I tried.

That thought had crossed my mind once and only once. Who would believe the blasphemous words, a vain attempt at a resolution so I could continue on with some degree of sanity?

Yevon, I hadn't saved them. Had I even tried?

"No," I whispered, the sound startlingly sharp to my own ears.

My friends' lives had been so fragile like a new born baby just bellowing out its first cry. I could see that now. But there had been no regrets from either of them. Braska and Jecht's faces shadowing my mind were what made this desperate, ridiculous fight to keep stumbling along toward the artificially illuminated horizon, all the more pathetic. My every breath was pathetic, my every groan of pain. My pain was nothing compared to theirs.

By Yevon, I loved them, so much more than I had just days before. Or perhaps I just hadn't realized how much they meant to me. Ironic. Ironic that something so obvious occurred to me when it was too late to think rationally.

My trembling fingers scraped back several sweat-dampened locks of raven hair, as my other hand gripped at the coarse bark of a tree to hold my body upright. Unavoidable death chilled my skin. The world was full of death. Or was it all just in me? I shivered at my own mortality.

Then with my one good eye, I swore I saw for just the briefest moment a face that almost made me sob out into the soundless night. The face - it had been smiling. Braska. He'd smiled just before he died. At me. He didn't blame me. He should have.

"Braska, you should hate me!" was hissed from my dry lips.

Then a sound. I swore I heard his gentle laughter. My instant panic distorted my features and made more of the blood caked on my face crack and flake off onto the spiky grass.

To look upon my own face surely would have been horrifying, although that was only a guess since I hadn't actually bothered to look. I could feel the softest breeze biting at the freshly opened gouge to my face, a wound that never healed. That scalding pain was all I needed to understand why I'd woken up alone on the temple floor in Zanarkand. With just a lift of her pale slender arm, the woman had beaten me like a fly smashed under a rolled up newspaper. She'd smiled too, without blame, just pure apathy.

The bitter memory made me smile now, an ugly and sour expression. But the shallow effort seemed too great. The world was suddenly spinning in directions it didn't normally. I wasn't going to make it.

Oh, help me, Yevon, my promises! I had to make it!

My feet stumbled forward as if they weren't my own and searching for their master. There was a spring nearby, I knew. My thick tongue licked my cracked lips. I couldn't remember the last time I'd drank a cup of water, my supply running out long before my descent of Mount Gagazet. The mere imaginings of water seemed almost magical. Of course, it was even more magical that I remained upright.

A break in the trail appeared. With my blurry vision and the night's darkness, I would have missed it had my hand not been searching for the support of the next tree trunk. I stumbled terribly to the left, but then almost laughed in hysterical glee as I somehow managed to stay on my feet.

It was beautiful, what I could see of it. Perhaps when a person was near death, they could actually notice something that should have been obvious. Weeks before, the pond certainly hadn't caught my breath in my throat. With admirable trust in my own dying body, I let my feet guide me forward.

Natural lights illuminated the area and the moon and stars shined off of the still water in the distance. All colors imaginable. My eyes feasted on the vision. The scent of the flowers and the water itself was a drowsy perfume, carried by a silky breeze so soft that even the cut down my face didn't mind the caress. My body, all life, even Braska and Jecht, seemed to be a shadowy dream. But the sensation lasted for only a moment.

In the distance, blue motion glowed almost with a light of its own. My dry eye couldn't focus well enough to make out a definite shape, but with its sure gestures, it was alive and probably bathing. It was then that I noticed the sounds of dripping water, now that I knew to listen for it. Two long limbs reached up and silver flickered about as they combed their way through an apparent mane of hair.

I realized then that I could suddenly make out the hair and powerful clawed fingers since I had never stopped my advance. It was tripping over the pile of clothes and armor that brought me to my senses.

My disturbance made the figure jerk around in the water. I could make out the vague features of a face. Piercing eyes made my heart pound as I sucked in my breath. That reaction certainly didn't help my body's state. The scenery swirled. And I was down, barely able to note the metal of my sword pressing into my robed backside.

"Braska. . ."

I couldn't die. I was so close to Bevelle. My promise for Yuna, one of two promises, and I couldn't even complete that one, it became dreadfully apparent.

Then my body moved not of its own accord. My face grew wet. It was a chilly wetness, though, not the warmth of fresh blood. A drop of liquid hit my eye and I couldn't help but open it. A mouth moved, showing a glimmer of pointed teeth. Not human. Surely this being was saying something but I couldn't seem to hear over the pounding in my head. Yellow eyes frowned at me. Beautiful gold, like two suns that one could actually admire without the risk of going blind. But these two orbs were definitely alive and intelligent.

It was then that I realized that this person was my only hope. The sound vibrating in my head, I forced out, "the daughter of Lord Summoner Braska. . . Yuna. . . She's in Bevelle. . . Please, her father wishes her to leave. . . She must go. . . leave. . ."

Then I heard the low rumbling of his voice: "Rest. Kimahri find help."

"No!" With a strength that surprised even me, I gripped at a bare chest. Velvety fur scrunched between my fingers. I apparently held nothing back as the man cringed. "You must find her! Please help me!"

My desperation shocked me. This surely wasn't my voice. But the large man nodded once. Some time later, I would find amazement that this Ronso had agreed to help me. While their race was part of Yevon's circle, they nonetheless had kept their distance, preferring the snowy mountains of their birth. Later, I would also wonder as to why this person named Kimahri had been alone and far outside of his territory. But at that moment, I just needed his help.

For some reason, perhaps because of the man's drawn brows that held unhindered concern, I knew he would. My grip loosened, then dropped. I almost had to laugh at the whole dramatic scene. This was not how I had pictured my death.

When he let go, I should have too. My body did, but I couldn't.

I would never have guessed. Who would have thought that Yunalesca's words were true: Death was truly liberating. No pain. No tears. Nothing but darkness.

But there was no one to send me. And death was the last thing I wanted. I couldn't accept death. I couldn't lie around when so much depended on me.

When I opened my eye, the sun was just beginning to brighten the sky. My eye shouldn't have opened, but it did. I shouldn't have been able to push aside the light layer of branches covering my body, but my arms managed. I shouldn't have been able to stand, but my knees never buckled. My heart beat. I could hear it over my panting.

I shouldn't have been able to do these things because I knew I was dead.

Without thinking, I touched the long scab and winced a bit at the pain. The slash over my eye no longer bled. That certainly surprised me. The skin also felt clean. But how? I tried to remember. . . The Ronso. Had he cared for me? Certainly, the man had done something. I had to find him, Yuna.

I went to Bevelle with sure quick steps, a contrast to my near crawling the day before. Something inside of me drove me on through the hours, eating me like the need of a person's lungs. Surely it was my promises, one of which, the more realistic one, I seemed less and less able to fulfill. Yuna was missing, and no one seemed to know where she'd gone.

By evening, my mind was full of despair. I'd lost her. I could only hope that the Ronso had fulfilled his wordless promise. Sitting on a bench, being ignored by the busy people's celebration of the new Calm, it was then that I felt a tug on my insides. It caught me completely off guard, but it was like a slap across the face. Someone was calling me, but without a voice. It was as terrifying as it was intriguing. Perhaps that was because I knew who the voice belonged to.

"Jecht."

Without any provisions, sword strapped to my back, I stalked back out of Bevelle. I was a wolf on the trail of a kill. Well, rather, I was the kill walking straight into a trap. But my fear was gone. Of course, I -was- dead.

I walked for what was surely days, but time didn't matter. When the beast was before me, dancing over the tides of water, I smiled.

"Take me."

Sin groaned. I stretched out my arms, welcoming. It moved forward with astonishing speed. All was white.

Then I was alone on a pier and looking out across the vastness of a city. I knew the name of the place without even a thought: Zanarkand. It was beautiful. And there was no Sin. For the first time, I cherished the passage of time. It was greedy, I knew, but to just forget, to be in a world without Sin. To ignore that Jecht, Tidus' father and my friend, was that horrifying beast. . . If I could have, I would have laughed at my vain effort to run away from reality.

Of course, 'praise' be to Yevon, I never did forget.

Then again, I never wanted to either, not really. . .

 

~~~ 10 years later ~~~

 

"Enjoy the show?" I was leaning against a tree, my arms and feet crossed, and watching the other man emerge from the trail.

The silver-haired Ronso raised a brow at me. Every muscle flexing with the effortless movement, the man kept walking up to me, past me. "Yuna needs her Guardian. Kimahri protect her. Now boy protect her, so I sleep." Kimahri walked only a few steps passed my tree when he stopped. His long tail whipped once, then he muttered without turning around, repeating my words, the rumbling voice tinged with jest, "you enjoy the show?"

I barked a bit of laughter. "The shows of children fail to interest me. As long as their clothes stay on, I find no reason to parent the boy." My eye wavered to the trail leading to the pond. "And amazingly enough, I trust them."

"So why come?"

My smile lessened considerably. Words failed to form. I felt gold eyes fix their gaze on my turned head. The man watched me, and his interest and concern felt good. The Ronso was the only one who knew the truth about me, what I'd become ten years before. I owed so much to him and the thanks I'd come to give him felt inadequate. He'd fulfilled a promise I'd made to another without any request for payment. In fact, he more than fulfilled it by protecting Yuna through half of her childhood and her adolescence. And now with Seymour. . .

A straightforward 'thank you' just didn't cut it.

"It never was my intention to leave you there."

Of course, it had been my complete intention to leave the Ronso to face Seymour alone, while I had rushed Yuna and Tidus away to safety.

My words were from guilt, and I could tell by Kimahri's grunt that he didn't believe a word I'd said, nor did he hold the slightest grudge. If I hadn't brought it up, the man probably wouldn't have thought twice about it.

I owed him so much.

It seemed I had learned nothing from Braska's death, nor Jecht's transformation. Another man was before me, one who deserved my complete devotion, but I had been just as willing to let him die when it should have been me. My present guilt didn't matter, though. If Yuna hadn't stopped me, I would have let this man die. It was the hard truth and I had to live with the disgrace.

Heavy footsteps jerked my attention back to the departing Ronso. "Kimahri, walk with me." The man stopped instantly and turned his head, questioning. The words surprised even me. The tail whipped once again, and I smirked. "Humor me."

His clan members had called him a 'small' Ronso, but by human standards, the man was large. All muscle, sinew, and stature; a human couldn't help but look on in admiration. But it was his mental presence as well, quiet but imposing. His demeanor dwarfed all outside distractions, making everything else vanish like a forgotten dream. Needless to say, over the course of our travels, more and more, he got my blood churning. And as his tail flickered about, I could only wonder what he thought of me.

Kimahri nodded and we started a slow but steady walk to the north. There had never been a need for words between us, outside of my self-inflicted needs to apologize. True, I hadn't known him long, but our minds meshed as if we were twins separated at birth, always knowing deep inside that one was out there looking for the other.

Our silence led us for many minutes before I felt a hand on my back. If I'd felt a churning before, now I felt a flood.

"We sleep. The dawn comes."

When I didn't stop, the hand moved to my shoulder, gripped it solidly, and forced me to a stop. Despite my own inadequate size, I was the stronger of the two. And when handling a sword, size was the last thing that mattered. But my sword was the last thing on my mind, as the grip slackened then tightened once more.

Could he hear my pounding heart over my deepening breaths?

Kimahri sidestepped behind me. A clawed thumb pressed down my stiff collar. Lips and the sharpness of teeth grazed my neck. I could smell the wild herbs he used to wash his hair. The large hand caressed over my shoulder, down my chest. The thickness of it practically covered the whole expanse of my torso. It was amazing. I bit my lip to hinder my groan, and pressed into his strength, tilting my head even more to feel that dangerous, heated caress trail to my jawbone.

A low purr vibrated out the man I was suddenly sure was going to become my lover. He pressed himself closer, practically forcing the air out of my lungs.

"Not sure. . ."

The low voice itself was unsure. That brought back some awareness. I wanted to thank him, for everything, for his strength and commitment, for his life he had given up for me and my young charge. I wanted to show him how much respect I had for him, how much I appreciated him, despite my stupidity in bringing so much danger to him. Sure, he could have walked away from the danger, but I knew he wasn't the type of being who would have just because he could.

By Yevon, I wanted him to know how much I cared about him.

I grabbed the hand at my chest and pulled away, forcing him to follow. The forest swallowed us up. Only a few meters were crossed. I pushed him up against the nearest tree and did something I'd wanted to do for ten years: I pulled my arm out of my robe, placed my hand on his chest, and felt the velvety fur with my calloused fingers. Years before, the action had been aggression. This time, softness was all I felt. The man trembled. I looked up. Golden eyes watched me in a clear daze. I let my hand travel upwards, weaving my fingers through the white chest hair. I gripped his neck and pulled him down so that I could bite at his ear. The Ronso growled. My eyes closed.

A begging in my mind, I hissed, 'don't make me stop.' I couldn't believe he was letting me do this to him.

The taller man grabbed my buttocks with overlapping hands as if answering my wordless plea. The grip was clear: he wouldn't let me stop.

"I want to thank you," I groaned.

"No thank you's."

I pressed my erection against his upper thigh. The man's own pushed at my groin, forced down and to the side by his armor. My hand leaped to the length of his cock as if my limb had a mind of its own. I shifted my hips to get a full grip. Kimahri himself shifted and brought an arm behind himself. I didn't know exactly what he was trying to accomplish, but when his leg lifted to rest on my shoulder, my gloved hand hastened to unzipper my pants, pull out my erection, and find that the Ronso's hand had unsecured his loincloth, which I swept to the side.

I couldn't hold back. With a thrust, I was inside of him. My lover sucked in his breath, gripping me to his chest until I couldn't breathe. Gratefully, after a few seconds, most of the death hold around my torso as well as his breath was released with a low growl. Pure music. Call it hormones a dead man shouldn't have; I loved him at that moment. Of course, I probably always had.

Another trust, deeper. Another groan from the both of us. With the next one, he gripped my buttocks again and forced me in harder. His tightness felt better than life. Kimahri hissed a moan. I wouldn't have normally moved so quickly, but his muscles were taunt against me. I got the clear impression that he wanted it to hurt. So, I slammed against him of my own accord and was thanked with a shuddering growl that vibrated us both.

In certain matters, I was a quick learner, and this was one of them. I fucked the man harder than with any of my previous lovers. And this beast of a man only wanted more. I yanked at his cock, timing it with thrashes of my hips. Claws dug into my buttocks and I lived in the pain. Sharp teeth bit at my neck, surely drawing blood as the man licked at my neck with clear intent. Thank Yevon for high collars, or I would have had prying stares from our companions to shake off. With another couple of thrusts, I buried myself into him, bit at his chest, and came with a dreadfully pleasurable force. Kimahri growled at the bite, and a few seconds later, spurts of liquid hit my chin and drenched my hand. Somewhere in my overworked mind, I was sane enough to stop my yanking on his length and let go of the chunk of flesh in my mouth.

But, by Yevon, I didn't want it to stop! His panting and soft lips at my cheek and ear kept me high.

We stayed there for a time I couldn't have counted, didn't want to count. But then, the Ronso was removing his leg from my shoulder with a throaty groan. I, of course, obliged him by helping and backing away a step so he could readjust himself. I followed suit.

White teeth appeared from underneath an undeniable smile. Kimahri reached out and wiped at my chin, cleaning it of cum. The hand pulled away, but I grabbed it without hesitation and licked off the salty cream. The man purred along with my moan.

"Thank you," he whispered in a low rumble.

"No thank you's," I purred right back.

I think we could have stayed there the rest of the night. I know we could have. But we were Guardians, and that was a call far greater than either of us. Besides, both of us loved Yuna as much as the other, for different reasons, surely, but when it came to love, that didn't matter.

We walked back to camp in silence, me licking most of the cum off of my hand, Kimahri finishing the job with slow licks that I swore were going to be the death of me. Too bad I was already dead.

It was almost dawn. Sleep would be little. Our journey would only grow more difficult. But never had I felt more awake, nor more free. What I had always thought was the truth, Kimahri had made into a lie for me. My guilt was only in my head.

A person can be forgiven. Even if it's spoken in silence.


End file.
